


and you, my love, are gone

by dystopianDebaucher



Category: SHINee
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, M/M, Romance, past!jongkey - Freeform, side!taekey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-24 11:12:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4917361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dystopianDebaucher/pseuds/dystopianDebaucher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Losers only get to look on with envy. That's exactly how Minho felt, and he was pretty sure his feelings weren't about to change anytime soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. and the greatest thing you'll ever leaern

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I based this off of like two other minkey fics I just read (I forgot where but it's on LJ and scREAMS OK) so basically I just got bits and pieces of both and made my own plot and opted for a HAPPIER ENDING bc wow i need to love myself. it's kinda sad in the beginning bUT I PROMISE IT'S GOING TO END UP WITH THEM HAPPY I hope. Honestly I haven't thought this out much bUT GOSH DO I NEED TO GET MYSELF INTO WRITING AGAIN.
> 
> title from Ingrid Michaelson's The Chain!
> 
> it's 1 am and i didn't proofread this pls send help.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho should've seen it coming. Should've seen it coming from a mile away. A few hundred miles, even.

Being a full time model and a college student wasn't exactly his greatest choices in life, but this is what he gets when he signs a contract he's barely read (the attention span of a 21 year old isn't that far from that of a 5 year old--or at least, his is). Minho doesn't even have time to lament as he's gone from schedule to schedule, all while trying to get through his senior thesis.

You'd expect him to be dishriveled, looking like a walking corpse newly risen from the dead, but  _damn._ Looking bad just wasn't part of his dictionary, and though his manager commended him on it, his boyfriend (who, in all honesty, was a  _tad_  bit happy this was the case) was grilling him to take some time off. It wasn't healthy, and even he knew it. The management didn't seem to mind his relationship status, with it being the 21st century and all, though he was asked to keep a low profile and not encounter any scandals since it wasn't only them he'd be getting an earful from.

He's gone from country to country, sometimes taking months off of school, and another one of those during this school year and he'd end up having to take summer  _and_  a fifth year. Both of which he doesn't want, having to go through summer class every single year after he was scouted. It was extra money, and he was thankful for it, because now him and his boyfriend were living together. That's the only thing keeping him going.

Or rather, it  _was_.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Ever since he had gotten the model gig, even he had to admit that he barely saw his boyfriend anymore. The last time he had seen him was during their graduation (in which he thanks every god in existance that allowed this miracle to happen) and it'd been quite a few months since then. Right after graduation, he had been tasked to model for various countries across Europe. And with his rising popularity, it took him 2 and a half months to be able to go back. He returned to an empty apartment, the bed looking unused and the tables and counter tops collecting dust.

Really, as far as he remembered, this was a  _shared_  apartment. But it doesn't seem like it in the slightest. He had called out for him, looking through every room (there were only three, it wasn't that hard to figure out he wasn't there).  Quickly fishing out his phone, he had dialed his number only to be sent to voicemail.

"Kibum? I'm home. Where are you? Call me back once you get this. I miss you."

He knew it was his fault, knew that despite the money he was bringing to the table it wasn't enough of an excuse to just leave his boyfriend all alone like that. But he knew Kibum would be understanding. He was the one who urged him to take the job in the first place. But he should've seen it coming, should've seen how throughout the years they were together, the smiles Kibum had for him were directed more towards a certain underclassman they met during their second year. He should've noticed the lingering touches and the sudden plans he always had. Should've noticed the way their kisses were always cut short, and how the fire in his boyfriend's eyes were no longer there.

So he doesn't even have the right to be shocked, to get mad. But still, he does.

"Cheating on me?! You've been cheating on me?!"

Kibum had just come home, and immediately he had fessed up. No welcome home kiss was shared, no tears were shed.

"What was I supposed to do?! Just wait for you?! Did you really expect me to wait this all out and  _hopefully_  it'll all work out?!"

Even he couldn't believe how angry he was, but he knew that this anger was directed more towards himself

"Then why didn't we just end this sooner, then!"

"I would've, but you weren't home! Big shock there!"

"Text me! We both know you've gone lower than that when breaking up with someone!" His throat was dry and he's so close to grabbing the nearest object and throwing it on the floor, on the wall, the window, and maybe even Kibum. And despite the fact that he knew his statement was below the belt--a perk of being best friends with your lover was that you'd been through so much together, and it just so happened Minho was there when Kibum had broken up with his previous boyfriend.

This made Kibum flare up, the fire in his eyes returning, though for a far different reason than Minho had hoped. He let out a huff, waving his hand indignantly. "You're right," he started, tone lowering as he tried to calm himself down. "I should've just texted you. Can't believe I didn't think of that. But you know, being best friends and all that, I thought you'd at  _least_  want to talk this out. But apparently, for once, I'm wrong."

"You've been wrong about a lot of things before, Kibum. Just add this to your list before you head on out of  _my_  apartment. I assume you've already collected your things?" He had noticed the absence of his things as he went through the rooms looking for him as he got home. He initually assumed he had simply gone on a sleepover. But Kibum never brings anything over when he sleeps over. He should've known.

Kibum let out another huff, before plastering a sly smirk on his face. "All these years. You'd think I'd matter more, but apparently not." He was about to leave when Minho grabbed his wrist.

"Hey. I'm not the one who walked out on this relationship. I messed up, making you wait and all that, and I'm sorry. But I guess it was foolish of me to think you'd wait, huh? Stupid of me to think I was, oh, I don't know, worth the wait?"

Kibum, in retaliation, slapped him, tears threatening to spill as he tried to even his breath before speaking. "You were. Or at least I thought you were. But Minho, I've been waiting for you for three years. Even before you got the modelling gig, you've been far too busy to even notice me when I'm speaking. The breakfast I make always goes to waste, since you opt to eat with your teammates right before morning practice. You barely noticed how much I was avoiding you during our last year in college. Minho, we don't even have a graduation picture together."

True enough, he really hadn't noticed this at all. He was far too used to Kibum being beside him, being with him all the time, that he just thought that even if he wasn't always there, Kibum would be. It was such a selfish train of thought, but he hadn't realised how terrible it was until now.

"I'm sorry." Was all he could say, the throbbing of his cheek going unnoticed as he tightened his grip around his bo-- _ex-_ boyfriend's wrist. "I've been selfish, I know. But I guess I got used to you not being there because before we got together, you really never were. When I finally had you, I guess I was so inclined to the fact that the probability of you never getting over Jonghyun and me being an eternal rebound never left my mind." A sigh. "I can' t believe that after all of this, after all the pining and hurt I had to go through all those years to get you, I'd be the one to hurt you in the end."

"What goes around comes around." Kibum chuckled, albeit bitterly.

"Hey," he started, slowly loosening his grip. "Answer me this: did you ever really love me?"

"I still do, to a degree."

"Were we ever anything special?"

"You've always been special."

He let go now, moving to cup the other's face and pressing a soft kiss on his forehead. "Take care."

"You too."

And with that, Kibum left. And it isn't until a few years later, in a completely different country, in an awfully awkward situation, did they meet again. And  _boy,_ did Minho wish they hadn't.


	2. is just to love and be loved in return

They've spent almost every day together after the unfortunate accident of Minho spilling his chocolate milk on Kibum's dazzingly white button down, earning him an earful from the boy as they tried to get the stain off in the bathroom. They were 14 then, and it's been three years since, turning four since they're graduating soon. High school was all about experimenting, finding yourself and making friends, and that's just what Kibum did.

He fell in love left and right, but despite all this, he couldn't find that one person who can make his heart skip a beat and take his breath away. That was, until he met Kim Jonghyun his sophomore year. He fell  _so_  head over heels the two years they were together the only thing he could utter was his name and their days spent together. Of course, this meant Minho had to watch his best friend get taken away, just when he was realising that maybe he wanted to be more. That's when he realised that they couldn't be anything, really, since they were nothing to begin with.

He had thrown Minho away in a heartbeat, not even sparing him a glance when he said hi in the hallways. Eventually, the greetings stopped and Minho inclined himself to the fact that two years wasn't anything, their days meant nothing, and he was already thrown away. That was, until he found a note on his locker. ' _I miss you_ ', it read, in Kibum's unnaturally neat handwriting. He'd never mistake it for anyone else's, the frequent note passing they do during class made sure of it. His heart had once again found itself beating, but he quickly shut that down because a simple sticky note on his locker didn't mean anything. The notes became more frequent and contained longer messages, stemming from ' _I miss you_ 's to ' _Let's hang out_ ' and ' _Notice me_ 's. He couldn't help but scoff. If anyone was to say 'notice me', it'd definitely be him.

Kibum had enough of being set aside by his supposed best friend, so he opted to take matters into his own hands and ditch the sticky note route, going straight to the source of all his irritation and laying down on his bed, waiting for his walking pet peeve to come home.

The door creaked open and he immediately sat up, eyebrows raised. "You're late."

"You're in my room." Minho sighed, his mother notifying him of Kibum's surprise visit.

"You've been ignoring me. Stop it."

 _Of all the things_ , Minho thought, groaning as he willed himself not to lash out and hit him, opting to massage his temples right after he flung his bag to the corner of the room. " _I'm_  ignoring  _you_?" He scoffed, brows furrowed as he leaned by his door frame, closing it with a sigh attempting to escape his lips.  _Every time you sigh, you let your happiness escape._

"You are. You need to stop." Kibum huffed, defiant as he crossed his arms over his chest, the boring sports magazine thrown aside (honestly, why did he have to be best friends with a sports buff?).

"Kibum." He replied, tone low as he gritted his teeth, trying to smile and keep himself intact and will himself to stay clear of mind, to act rationally. " _You_  haven't spoken to me in  _months_. Actually, no, make that a  _year_. Ever since you've hooked up with that  _guy_ , you've stopped talking to me. And now, here you are, having the audacity to tell  _stop ignoring you_?"

He couldn't believe it--it couldn't have been  _that_  long since they last spoke, has it? Yes, he's happy with Jonghyun, but it couldn't have been that long? "Don't call him  _that guy_." Was the first thing he said, the statement escaping his lips before he had properly had the chance to reform and rearrange his thoughts.

" _See_. Even now you're still thinking about him. Why're you here, anyway? What's up with the notes? Rough patch?" He huffed, ignoring how his heart clenched when Kibum had defended his boyfriend before he even bothered to defend himself.

"I missed you. I thought I made that clear." He didn't know what was happening--was this how it felt like to be on a losing side of an argument? With Minho, everything was easy, everything came just as natural as though they had breathed the same breath. Their entire relationship was built on how natural everything had started, on how natural they had seemed to click. They filled in what the other had lacked, their dynamic allowing them to build each other up and better each other. Now, everything was far too complicated, and Kibum had no idea what was happening.

"Okay. I miss you too. Are we done here?" Whatever hope that was blossoming in Minho's chest needed to be crushed immediately, not wanting to subject himself to any more pain as he watched the person who was probably going to be his first and last love be happy with someone else.

"Is that it? That's all you have to say to your best friend?"

"Kibum, if we were really best friends, I don't think you'd just throw me away just because you're in a relationship. Or at least, I wouldn't."

"I didn't throw you away!"

"Then what do you call not talking to your  _best friend_  for a year, giving him the cold shoulder and not even sparing him a glance in the hallways?"

He was speechless now, not knowing what else to say. It was true, he  _was_  a terrible best friend, and now he didn't know what to do to change their relationship. The damage has been done and whatever it was that'd mend this was eluding him, gaping as he looked at Minho, whose brows were still furrowed, looking like he was about to explode. For once, he lost an argument with him. For once, he was in the wrong. For once, he couldn't find the right words.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice so soft it was barely audible.

"You're forgiven." Minho replied, a sigh escaping his lips once more. "But please, Kibum, if you don't have any plans of having me back in your life,  _get out_."

Like an obedient puppy, he left, the tears spilling from his eyes as soon as the door to his  _ex_ -best friend's house was shut.

\------------------------------

Kibum's relationship with his boyfriend had been on the rocks since then, realising that maybe he wasn't as happy as he thought. He was completely enamoured with how in love he was that he didn't notice how he became more attached to the idea of  _having_  someone instead of  _being_  with someone. Jonghyun simply fit the bill--he was gorgeous, popular, and an all-around nice guy. So when he suddenly wanted to break things off a few weeks before graduation, the break-up wasn't as smooth as he had hoped.

"What brought this on?"

"I just don't love you anymore." He replied, the signal from his phone making Jonghyun's voice come off as static-y. Why he chose to break up over the phone, a few weeks before graduation  _and_  on their anniversary was beyond him, but he wanted to end things right when he realised that the relationship just wasn't worth it anymore.

"Yes, you've told me. But what brought it on?"

"Nothing, really. Sudden realisation I guess."

"You're terrible."

"I know."

A lot of harsh things were said, and it amazed him that he wasn't all that affected. He was told how heartless he was, and how he would never find anyone who would love him for who he is, and he was perfectly fine hearing it--in the end, a part of him thought he was right, he couldn't argue. With not a single tear shed, he walked over to the front porch of the house he's been eyeing, phone pocketed as he rang the doorbell.

"Hi Mrs. Choi. Is Minho home?"

\------------------------------

How and why Minho accepted him back into his life he didn't know--his re-acquired best friend was probably a saint in his past life, no doubt. But the ulterior motives soon became clear after graduation, flushed faces basking in the euphoria of high school graduation coming closer, their breaths moulding as they fell into whatever mess of a relationship they now had, kissing the life out of each other all the way home.

Minho wasn't quite sure what to make of Kibum's sudden return from exile, thinking he was just a fallback, a rebound. Needless to say, his self-esteem sank hell deep just thinking about whether or not Kibum still loved Jonghyun, the last thing he remembered before being left alone was how wonderful he was and that they were probably soulmates--two halves of a whole. Kibum had constantly told him off for it, telling him it wasn't him that he loved and that he was just a replacement for the love he misplaced.

That didn't do much for him, though, because what if the same thing that happened to Jonghyun would happen to him? That Kibum would just fall out of love, telling him whatever they had was nothing. He was done with feeling like shit over someone who didn't care--so despite the overflowing love he had for his best friend, he made sure to put a wall around his heart, shield himself from any torture the other may have in store for him.

But there they were four years later, still together and now living together. They were graduating and Kibum had finally felt what it was like on the losing end, what Minho had been talking about when he told him he was thrown away. The only thing that had enlightened his situation, however, was the fact that it wasn't because of someone else, but rather a commitment he himself had forced on him.

Minho is gorgeous--absolutely stunning. How he missed that when they were still teenagers he didn't know, because back then he still looked as though he was sculpted by the gods. So of course when offered a modelling gig, he'd tell him to take it. It was for his future, afterall. If he could be paid to look good, why not? So he didn't have a reason to complain when he was feeling lonely, watching his boyfriend go in and out of their shared apartment day in and day out, barely sparing him a glance (and on good days, at least a kiss to the cheek before he went).

He had found comfort in the arms of another, the guilt that developed at the pit of his stomach clawing at him whenever he saw Minho come home, wondering if he still had a place in his heart if he knew. Taemin was good to him, he was good  _for_ him. His loneliness seemed incurable, and though he could've talked to Minho about it--could've solved it like good, rational adults--he had taken the easy way out. And he had no reason to blame his boyfriend, no proper blame to pin on his head, thinking he had brought this upon himself. And he did.

The guilt didn't stop, wouldn't leave him alone. They've graduated and despite all that, he's felt lonelier than ever, the empty, cold air in their apartment enveloping him, mocking his lonesomeness as he cradled himself and willed for it to stop. He was weak, whatever brought this about had scarred him, told him off for the mistakes he's made in the past, the mistakes he's making now. Maybe it was karma, how he had thrown away Minho in pursuit of his own happiness slapping him in the face as his boyfriend had now pursued his. He was selfish and childish, opting to end it rather than to work things out. They were nothing again, and the words of Jonghyun had echoed in his head as he left their shared apartment, walking towards Taemin's.

_You'll a terrible person. You'll never find true love. No one will love you for who you are._

\------------------------------

Things, of course, didn't work out with Taemin. After a few months, they broke up--though this time on good terms. The both of them had decided they fell out of love, and that their entire situation, their entire relationship was built on consequence. The omen of his ex had come true, and the possibility of him finding true love was next to none. At this rate, he had started to think of getting pets to cure his loneliness, thinking he'd be better off with fur balls adoring him than actual people.

At least his work life had been stable, constantly on the rise through the years that had passed. He's been single for what seemed like a decade (it's only been three years) but his work had kept him going. He was now the head designer for a well known local brand, now trying to expand to the global market with the help of proper hype and marketing. This hype and marketing, as excited as he was for it, ended up coming in the form of a familiar face.

Their reunion was awkward, stolen glances during photoshoots and awkward touches during styling was suffocating. They didn't know how to greet each other, stoic features seemingly permanent as Kibum went about his work, a part of him willing himself not to look while the other part desperately wanting to soak him all in, to bask in his beauty and presence once more.

By the end of the day he thought he was out--superficially intact but intact nonetheless--until a far too familiar voice had called out to him, asked him to stop.

"Long time no see."

"Long time no see."

"How've you been?"

"Good. You?"

"Great."

The exchange was unpleasant, awkward by every definition. Kibum wanted to get out, to run and not look back. But there he stood, captivated by what he once had, what he had let go--let slip through his fingers due to his own selfishness, silent whilst falling apart on the inside.  _I'm sorry_ , he wanted to repeat, over and over again until the very essence of the word had been lost and all there was was the empty feeling of regret that pooled in his stomach, the lingering affection he had suffocating him as he tried to pry his eyes away.

"Can we talk?"

_He's screwed._


	3. i was made for loving you, baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that they're back in each other's lives, the only thing stopping them from going back to routine is Kibum's innate distaste for love. But then that's about to crumble, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO IT'S BEEN FOREVER NICE NICE NICE NICE NICE imma just go cry now pls enjoy i hOPE THIS IS TO YOUR LIKING THis'll end like in the next chapter so i hope it's all good hUHUHUHUHU i need to update more of my fics IM SO o-

The sentence  _can we talk_  is never, in any context, a good sign.  _Can we talk_  usually meant the end of all things good and with how their relationship (awkward side glances and subtle touches), Kibum didn't think there was anything good to end. That ended three years ago and this cliché sentence wasn't used then, so why use it now?

"There's nothing to talk about." He shouldn't hesitate, shouldn't let the butterflies in his stomach flutter. It's been three years, he still can't be  _this_  weak when it comes to Minho, can he? Answer: He Can. He Is. He Will Forever Be.

\-------------------

A soft  _damn it_  was uttered when they stepped in the restaurant, suddenly feeling a tad bit underdressed in his ripped up jeans and shirt (he looked good, but the suits surrounding him made him think otherwise). While he was there in his supposedly designer outfit that looked like a teenager had decided they'd try to make an art project out of their closet, Minho stood in front of him clad in slacks, a turtle neck, and a grey trench coat looking as stunning as ever.

All eyes were on them as they made their way to their table, Minho ordering for the both of them (he didn't care, really, because if the other had ordered something he wouldn't like that'd only make his heart settle down easier--knowing he was forgotten would make him feel less guilty about how they ended things). But Minho, being the perfect man he was made out to be, ordered just what he wanted.  _Great_.

"So how've you been?" The other asked, fingers tapping at the silvereware set in front of them as they waited for their food.

"I thought I answered this before? I've been good. You've been good. Everything's great." He answered, trying to be as snarky as ever, trying to cut things short and hopefully leave with his heart still in his chest instead of Minho's.

"Calm down." Minho replied, sensing the tension and the other's restlessness. It's hard to break out of habits that were so routine and reading Kibum was just one of his. They were nothing again, and it's easier this time to focus on the things that mattered (namely his work and fans and in this case, Kibum). He wasn't going to deny it--the three years he's been single only meant three years of lamenting on his love lost. But he wasn't the type to just regret and forget.

He used those three years to better himself--to learn from his past mistakes and make sure he wouldn't leave anyone important behind, no matter how much fame he was starting to accumulate. He'd be damned if he let his past experiences not teach him anything, be damned if he'd let anyone else experience the pain he was put through; let anyone else experience the pain he put Kibum through.

"Let's just talk. Catch up. How's Taemin?"

"We ended things a long time ago. We're just friends now."

"Hey, at least you managed to keep one of your exes as a friend. That's an improvement." He chuckled, trying to make light of their relationship. Although Kibum obviously thought he wasn't being funny with how he suddenly glared daggers at the boy.

"Wouldn't your girlfriend be sad that you're spending time with me instead of her?"

 _Girlfriend?_   _What girl--ah._  "I didn't know you still read up about me." He smiled, a part of him happy the other followed his career that he was responsible for. Of course he would. "But anyway, that's just a rumour. I'm currently single."

Kibum knew for a fact that Minho never lied to him. He never had to.

"How the  _hell_  are you still single while looking like  _that_?" He huffed, pissed that while he wanted to shoot the other down, he ended up doing the complete opposite. Really, it wasn't fair that he looked that good despite everything.

"Been busy."

"Of course."

Their idle chat dragged on for a while, Minho finishing off the remnants of his steak while Kibum was too busy playing with this pasta to properly finish it. A part of him lost his appetite but another part of him wanted to prolong their stay in the quaint restaurant, still wanting to bask in the presence of his former best friend turned former lover.

Their topic was now love, the reason being that Minho just found out Kibum had been single for three years and so had he. He asked why, brows furrowed as he put his utensils down and waved for the waitress, ordering dessert.

"Love is pointless."

"How melodramatic."

"I know. But listen. Love is like spaghetti." He nodded, twirling some of his food and lifting it up, watching the noodles slip away from the fork. This statement earned him a snort from Minho, who looked like he was just about to comment on how ridiculous he's being. "No listen. Here, look." He added, lifting his fork to add emphasis. "It's like how the noodles slip away after a while. We can twirl and twirl again and again but nevertheless, the noodles will slip away and then you'll be left with nothing but leftover sauce that'd taste too strong if eaten without the noodles."

He was being far more philosophical than he wanted to, his little metaphor soundling like something a five year-old would say. But Minho didn't laugh afterwards. He didn't call him stupid or ridiculous. Didn't tell him he was being dramatic and that he should just finish his food. He ended up telling him he was right, a sigh escaping his full lips.

His dessert had come and they ate in silence after that, awkward with their goodbyes as they parted ways. At least, Kibum mused, his heart was still with him. But what he didn't know was that he was carrying someone else's in his chest, his own long gone.

\-------------------

He's always been special. At least that's what Kibum told him. He tended to believe a hefty amount of what Kibum said, despite everything he's ended up feeling throughout the years because of the boy. He's always wanted to believe that he was more than this, that he deserved more. But that  _more_  had always been Kibum, and it hasn't changed since their break-up.

It was pitiful, really, how hung up he's always been on his first (and self-proclaimed last) love. Maybe it was the lack of closure that made sure he wouldn't get over Kibum anytime soon, but either way he still found himself to find everything Kibum did beautiful, and despite all the wrongs he's experienced he knows he still loves him. Denying it won't help anyone.

Maybe it was fate that they met again and that this was fate giving him another chance to either end things properly or start anew. So when it came to working with Kibum, modelling for him and helping him with his business, he was trying harder than usual to please.

Kibum's praises made his heart flutter and his smiles that were faked throughout the years they were apart were now genuine, awkward side-hugs and pats to the back being his lame excuse at trying to be friendly. 

\-------------------

"What's wrong with him?" His co-workers asked, eyeing Minho in the corner, smiling as he got his hair and make-up re-done for a different concept.

"I don't know. It's freaking me out."

"Why is he so happy? He's never happy."

"Right? He hasn't screamed at anyone since the project started."

This little gossip made Kibum's ears perk up, brows raised as he nudged at one of the light assistants and asked about Minho's usual temperament.

"He's usually pissy but he's a good person. He apologises a lot for raising his voice but raises it nonetheless. It's kinda endearing but tiring at the same time."

"Basically he's just never in a good mood. It's always either pissy or apologetic."

"I think this is the first time I've seen him happy."

He wasn't sure what to make of the gossip, but he knew for sure he wasn't supposed to be happy hearing about his ex's sour moods. The magazine and newspaper articles didn't say anything about this. And he knew for sure he wasn't supposed to think that his current euphoria was due to his presence. But there he was, sitting comfortably on his high horse when he should be fifteen feet away from it.

\-------------------

It was their last day of shooting and now that he was being a witness to Minho's pissy attitude, Kibum made sure the boy knew he was having none of it.

"Honestly, how hard is it to get a drink?! Do I have to do everything here?! What're you getting paid for, then?!"

"Minho shut the fuck up before I get mad."

The already hyped up crowd burst into whispers when Kibum spoke up, brows furrowed and all. Minho didn't know how to react, moving to sit down on his chair as he started fuming. The staff didn't know of their previous relationship--whether it be the fact that they were former best friends or former lovers, so of course the whispers only grew louder as Kibum moved to envelop Minho in a hug, patting the other's head as the boy wrapped his arms around his waist.

"Feeling better? You calm now?"

Minho only nodded in reply, tightening his hold on the boy as he nuzzled against his chest, letting out a sigh of relief as he calmed himself. At least this they didn't grow out of. They were still each other's achor, no matter how much either of them wanted to deny it. (Minho was done denying anything, though.)

"Okay. So go to work properly and don't piss me off."

\-------------------

Despite the fact that his contract with Kibum ended, he made sure they'd meet up at least once a week to catch up. They fell into a routine again and it scared Kibum just how easy it was for them to go back to the way they used to be--to become friends again, just like that. It was as though nothing happened--like how he came back to Minho after breaking up with Jonghyun.

Really, just how many people did Minho save in his past life?

\-------------------

"I got another modelling gig. This time in Chicago, so I'll be gone for two weeks."

"Have fun and stay safe."

"That's it? No 'I'll miss you's?"

"I'll miss you. Happy?"

"Very. See you in two weeks?"

"Yeah, see you."

It took all of his willpower not to kiss Kibum goodbye and make sure he'd end up loving him just as much as he does but that'd be moving too fast and he'd scare him away, he's sure of it. Their weekly "dates" are already freaking him out, he noted, and he can't have Kibum running away on him now. So he's going to wait it out--wait for Kibum to make the first move. He's been pining for years, he can wait.

At least he hopes he can.


	4. you were made for loving me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All this, over eggs?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot i had ongoing fics ? ? ?? ? i'm sorry to evry1 like just in general just yES ANYWAY PLS ENJOY THE END OF THIS FIC also this wasn't proofread so if there are any mistakes pLS TELL ME AAAAAA
> 
> this is also posted on my aff so head on over there n look @ the nice poster u can put on ur fics (honestly i love that function dont me)

Okay, he's waited long enough. He can't take it anymore.

A sigh escapes his lips as he waits for Kibum at their now regular restaurant, having last met two weeks ago due to a schedule in New York. Kibum said it was fine, in spite of the fact that he had just returned from a month long trip from Hawaii, but then again he's at least gotten the hang of waiting for him to come back, nodding as he remembers how excited and happy Kibum always seems to look whenever they meet again after his trips (but then again, it could also be directed at the bags of presents he always has with him, his grip on the Cartier bag tightening as he makes his way to their usual table).

It's been a year since they've started talking again, started being in each other's lives. They've set up a routine, they've caught up with each other, the three long years of separation seemingly non-existent whenever they meet up again. But again, Minho's still in and out of the country, as busy as ever especially now that he's started to dabble in acting. Meanwhile, Kibum's business has started to boom and now he's in and out of the country too, meeting with potential partners and employees, trying to get everything settled before he started to expand. Minho being his model was a great help in boosting overall reach and sales of his clothing line.

Now the only problem is with them getting busier and busier, their routine and catch-up dates keep getting pushed back, the realisation that they haven't met in two months making Minho sigh he sat down on his sofa, lips pursed and brows furrowed, contemplating on whether he should open up that bottle of wine he had gotten as a gift or go with finishing up his beer stash and save the wine for Kibum. Is this how Kibum felt? Probably. Karma took its time but it came.

Minho was so hellbent on having Kibum feel how he felt during all those years of pining when really, he never stopped to think about how Kibum felt during his absence. _This is why you lost him_ , he thought, letting out another sigh as he moved towards the fridge to get as much beer cans as his hands could take. He had just sat back down and opened a can when he heard the bell ring, groaning as he got up only for his already huge eyes to widen even more as he stood there and stared at the screen for a few seconds before registering that Kibum's at his doorstep. (A part of him wondered how he got his address, but the bigger part of him was just so overcome by joy, shock, and fear as he moved to open the door).

"Minho-ya~", Kibum cooed, throwing himself at the other as soon as he opened the door. "Let's drink~"

\----------

Usual business trips for Kibum only take about 3-4 days, a week max. What he tells Minho, however, is completely different. Now that he's busier than ever and his business is booming, his lies are getting more and more believable and well, _it's what he deserves_. If Minho's business trip takes a week, his takes two. If it takes a two, his is four. And just like that, given that Minho's last business trip was a month, they haven't met for two. It's petty and it's been going on for a while now, but what can he do? He knows that boy won't learn unless he experienced it first-hand, so he's kept his pining to a minimum (which really meant that he's consumed more than six bottles of wine per month to keep himself sane and not go after the boy relentlessly), making sure he keeps his distance.

However, Kibum's patience has started to waver and how Minho was able to hold up all those years before they got together, he didn't know. Well, now they both learned their lessons.

And now that he's acknowledged that the lesson has been learned, he whipped out his phone to text Minho's manager, asking him where he is (it's a good thing the manager knows their situation, after all he's been Minho's manager since he was scouted while they were shopping for winter clothes and somehow Minho could work any ugly sweater Kibum made him wear). He told himself he only needed a _little_ liquid courage to push him along the rest of the night as soon as he got Minho's address, but next thing he knew (or could remember, really), his head is hurting and he's in Minho's bed, Minho cuddled up beside him, sans his shirt (it's how he sleeps, he notes). Now this wouldn't be that alarming, if not for the fact that his trousers were also missing and that he was now wearing Minho's shirt (it was so apparent, their sizes were far too different). _No way_ , he gasped-- internally so as to not wake the boy--trying to rid himself of the other's arm around him. _Really fucked myself over, huh_ , he grumbled, looking for his trousers on the floor, brows furrowed since he saw no clothes. "Really fucked yourself over, huh", a voice spoke, making his eyes grow ever so wide, thinking frantically if he said that out loud. Sad to say, it was the other boy that spoke, his heart falling to his feet when he turned around and saw what was once his entire world: the god, the sun, the moon, the stars, and all.

\----------

It's been so long since he's seen Kibum, his presence ever so welcome in his arms any time (despite the protests of his rationality and him telling himself he didn't want to fall again), sans, of course, the vomit that soon accompanied the boy who flung himself over to him as soon as the door opened. "Jesus...." he groaned, rolling his eyes as he was far too familiar with this type of set-up.

It didn't take him long to get the both of them cleaned up, after all he was due for a shower anyway and he hadn't had anything to drink (should he be thankful for this, he didn't know) but now he was busy contemplating his life decisions as he watched over a drunk Kibum constantly muttering his name. He'd been reciting random lines from his up and coming drama just to calm himself down--and if Kibum moved a little bit more to the right and invaded more of his personal space, those lines would've turned into prayers.

"How did I make it this far....." he sighed, obviously frustrated and brows more furrowed than ever. He was so close. He's always been so close. The reason why Minho probably never realised that three years had gone by without word from Kibum was that he never spent a day not thinking about him, and now that he's physically present in his life again, the feelings he's tried to suppress (which required so much concentration it led to hissy fits) bursting at its seams. "You're not a hormonal and suppressed teenager, you can do this." He told himself, trying to push out the thoughts that said 'yes, you are very much a hormonal and suppressed teenager. Run.'

But all that thinking, memorising, and praying seemed to tired him out faster than usual cause the next thing he knew he was waking up to an obviously distressed Kibum looking for his clothes. He soft chuckle escaped his lips before he commented, saying what was probably in Kibum's mind as he was frantically searching for his trousers, most likely thinking he made a lot of mistakes last night (in which case Minho hoped he didn't consider it a mistake to come to him at all).

He shook his head when he saw the other's distress levels evidently rise with his usual fox-like eyes started to mimic his, waving his hand dismissively. "Don't worry, we didn't do anything. I just fell asleep beside you while memorising my lines and apparently we cuddled? Maybe, I don't know." He continued, getting up from the bed and realising his shirt's off and takes a mental note to get out of that habit (he knows he fell asleep with it on, why can't it stay on?). "Clothes are in the dryer, I'll go make breakfast."

\----------

Suddenly it's all so damn anticlimactic. If it happened to be like this at least let something _small_ happen. He _did_ come here for a reason. But a part of him still thanked all the gods in existence that nothing happened, especially since he couldn't remember. If he can't remember, he rather not do anything at all. Savouring every moment of being with him, being connected to him, basking in his presence--that was what he wanted to do last night. But now his defences are back up and he's making his way to the dryer, fixing himself and getting ready to head out.

He was going to say he didn't need breakfast, going to tell him he'd just leave and intruded enough. But of all the days, Minho actually decided to cook and the smell of freshly made toast, bacon, and eggs enveloped the apartment and seemed to give Kibum a warm hug and told him explicitly to stay. He tried to leave, did his very best--and by that it meant that he literally hovered in front of the kitchen door before Minho noticed he had his bag and clothes on and told him to stay--but here he was, sitting, at the dining room table, playing with his fingernails as he waited patiently for Minho to set the table.

"Still such a princess, aren't you." Minho comments, and he had to eat the words ' _it's fine, I'm your princess anyway_ ' before it ruined their pleasant morning. "Wouldn't be me if I wasn't." He comments instead, biting down on his lower lip as he looks up at Minho, setting the table and looking like everything he wanted and more.

Its been so long since he's eaten Minho's cooking--though his 'cooking' really was limited to breakfast foods, which they promised to eat together every day since they met back when they were fourteen--humming as he took a bite of his toast and of the crunchy bacon set out in front of him. "Still good?" Minho asks, taking a bite from his own plate. "Even better."

He saves the best for last, since omelettes were his favourite and Minho had this sort of recipe he's never been able to recreate that seemingly gives him all the joy in the world while he eats. Its been so long he actually starts tearing up while eating it, putting his fork down in the middle of eating, realising how ridiculous the two of them were being. "Jesus..." He grumbles, sniffling as he wiped his tears.

They were both each other's constants in a world full of uncertainty and anxiety and frustration and all the bad things and they've let each other go twice. Fear has been taking a hold of both their emotions for so long that neither of them had the courage to hold onto whatever they had, thinking the other deserved better, deserved _more_ than each other. Even though in their heart, they both knew that nothing was better than this. They were both living their own lives, dreaming their own dreams, that they never stopped to consider that it was fine like this--they didn't need to be present in every aspect of each other's lives; they didn't need to be around each other 24/7. What they needed was a constant, an anchor whenever they couldn't be their own. And the built up anxiety of having lost each other twice throughout the years had exploded in their faces over breakfast, Kibum silently crying as he sat in Minho's dinning room, Minho looking at him with tired eyes and an aching heart, still wondering if he should reach out now or risk the possibility of losing him forever.

The moment that risk entered his mind, he immediately reached out, knowing full well he can't lose him again, cupping his face and peppering kisses all over his face, moving from across the table to right beside him to envelop him in a hug, burying his face in the crook of Kibum's neck. Kibum couldn't help but chuckle at everything that was happening. It was like the both of them suddenly had an epiphany over breakfast that the two of them played such big roles in each other's lives that the suppressed feelings, anxiety, fear, everything just didn't matter anymore.

"All this, over eggs?" He snorts, returning the hug and pulling him even closer. "I've missed you."

"And I, you."

"Why are we so damn dumb, Minho?"

It was Minho's turn to laugh, pulling away from the hug only to cup his cheeks, brushing away the tears with his thumb. "You've seen my grades, Kibum. I don't know why you thought we weren't."

Kibum smacked his arm lightly as he chuckled, the softness of his voice soothing Minho as though everything in the world just fell into place the moment that laugh was directed at him. "I know, I know. But this is a different dumb!" He hums, nose scrunching. "Can we still make this work?" His tone was lower now, fragility added to the softness that was present a few moments past.

"We will. Now, we will." He nods, leaning forward to pepper more kisses on his face before finally kissing the daylights out of him, soft laughter echoing in the room as he pulled away.

"I missed that a lot."

"Me too."

"We'll make it this time, huh."

"No doubt."

"No doubt." Kibum echoes, pulling him in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THAT AND I'M SORRY FOR COMPLETELY FORGETTING THIS FIC EXISTED though i'm p sure y'all forgot 2 :' )
> 
> if y'all hadn't noticed the moulin rouge titles then i feel sad for y'all n i suggest y'all watch it ASAP

**Author's Note:**

> any prompts anyone has for me, feel free to hmu on tumblr or twitter or even here!! i need more prompts, honestly.  
> thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed!!


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